One Christmas Day
by Anlynne
Summary: The holidays found Draco and Hermione alone, but when you throw in a book and forgiveness, who knows where it'll lead you.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The Day Before Christmas Eve

Hermione Granger's day was like any other. Her wand, set to wake her at six a.m. sharp began buzzing. She took her lukewarm shower, she fed her balding orange cat Crookshanks, ate a fulfilling breakfast of eggs and toast, and she used the Floo network connected to her fireplace to go to work. Yes, it was a day like any other, except that day, Harry asked her for a favor.

She was in her office at the Ministry of Magic, reading over a proposal for Centaur rights when her best friend Harry came in. One look at him told her that he spent yet another night awake with his and Ginny's month-old baby, James, who was recovering from his bout with Colic.

There was scruff along Harry's jaw and cheeks, black crescents under his emerald eyes. It was time for her to babysit, to let them have a vacation. She had dropped by two days ago to see that Ginny was as disheveled as he, her hair like a wild flame around her sickly tinged face.

Christmas was the day after tomorrow, the air bitter cold, small watery flakes drifting from the bluish gray clouds. It was a thought, to go in with Ron to give the happy parents a vacation - after the holidays, a second honeymoon. That would be the perfect present.

"Harry, you look awful."

"Gee," he croaked, "thanks." He ambled to the new couch between two sets of bookshelves, and collapsed his face into his hands.

She smiled apologetically and stood from her desk to join him. "I'm sorry. Look, why don't you leave James with me for a few nights? I can take care of him. I think I've read a remedy last night that may help."

"Molly gave us one too. It's helping little, but he won't stop crying..."

"Let me have him then."

"No, we can handle this, Hermione."

"That baby has more aunts and uncles than it can count. Now, there is no reason why I or anyone else can't take over while you get a decent nights sleep. You look mad."

Indeed, Harry looked like he was crazy, his sleep-deprived eyes wild, and his black robe wrinkled. She wished he would take her up on her offer, she loved looking after James, the cutest baby she had ever seen.

"I'm not leaving him when he's sick," he told her sternly, using what she imagined to be his fatherly voice. "Whenever I had a cold the Dursely's would keep me sanctioned off in the cupboard until I stopped coughing."

She patted his shoulder in sympathy. It disgusted her to hear about how he was treated. More times than once had she wanted to go over there and set things right, but it was more than once that Mr. and Mrs Weasley made them promise not to, in fear that it would make it all worse on him. He had to stay there on Dumbledore's orders, and they had to play nice.

"You're not them," she reminded him. "You're a wonderful father."

"Thank you, Hermione." He rubbed his glistening eyes. "I do need a favor from you. Where would you find information on this rare beast." He passed her a slip of paper that had been clutched in his fist.

She laughed at the name he messily scrawled at the top of a complaint. "A bad luck Hinkypunk? If you follow them they're all bad luck."

He laughed too, though it was dry. "I thought you'd like that. He's a bloke from Birmingham, threatened us all with those. He's a bit off his rocker, that one."

"This doesn't sound like your kind of case." She knew that he worked only on the most serious and biggest of threats. What else would the Ministry have the head Auror and the man who defeated Voldemort do?

"No, it's Carmichael's, but he's showed it to Ron, then to me... It's a joke in our department. But I do need that favor. He wants to beat him at his own game and he has six other cases on his desk. Think you can research how to catch them during your lunch? I would but I'm swamped too."

How could she deny him when he looked so beaten down? "Of course," she said as she tucked the paper in the pocket of her ruby robe. "Do you want some coffee while I'm out?"

"That would be great." He kissed her cheek. "Thanks. I owe you."

So during her lunch hour, she granted Harry's favor in Diagon Alley, but the research took no time at all, and with the extra time she had she went to a nearby Muggle bookshop. It was quite quaint and had the best coffee she had ever tasted.

While she was there it could do no harm to browse among its lovely selection of books. The tall ornate cases holding the beauties were calling to her. No harm at all. At least, that's what she thought...

It was a shelf too high, the cherry colored book that she wanted. She stretched, balancing herself on the toes of her sleek black shoes. Her fingertips barely grazed the new binding, it tempting her with its closeness. It was no use, she simply wasn't tall enough, which begged the question: Where were all the workers? They were never around when someone needed them most. She peered at her surroundings, but one was ringing an elderly lady up and another was shelfing others on the floor.

Hermione turned back to attempt the possible again, to reach the storybook. Then, a pale hand snatched it down.

She would have never believed it if she hadn't been staring right at his pointed ferret face. _Draco Malfoy_. In a _Muggle_ bookshop. _Stealing_ _her_ _book_.

Against his palm, he slapped it, a smirk leering at her. "Hello, Granger."

"Malfoy," she greeted cordially, albeit a little coldly. "What brings you here?"

"You mean what am I doing in a Muggle establishment," he corrected in his usual drawl.

"I did not say that."

"That's what you insinuated."

She burned. Malfoy hadn't changed at all as an adult. "That is not!"

He held up his hands in surrender, the book tauntingly in front of her. "Cool it, Granger, I'd hate to hose you down."

"You don't even know what that means."

"Don't challenge my intelligence, I made nearly the same marks you did."

"Not in Muggle studies. You could have used it!"

"Didn't need it, and neither did you, Granger. You're -"

"A mudblood," she finished for him, her hands clenched at her sides. Why did he have to anger her so easily? It was easier to keep the peace between him and Harry and Ron, she had to act the adult, she had to keep whatever peace there was, but without them, without any witnesses, there was nothing stopping her from slapping him. Just like she had done in their Third Year when she had finally snapped.

"You're a git."

"Am I?" He startled her, bowing down to peer into her eyes, chocolate to the heavens. "You shouldn't accuse others of prejudice, assuming that they dislike those of Muggle parents," he mockingly whispered.

She wanted to take a step back, to breathe, but it seemed as though her body forgot how. "You're vile."

He straightened, and she sighed in relief.

"You're not a conversationalist, are you," he pressed.

"Now look who's assuming," she loftily said, and satisfied, she turned on her heel, walking to the door without her book.

She didn't look back, but she just knew, that Malfoy was grinning, and she knew by the steadily louder footsteps that he was following her out. _Why_, she asked herself. _Why does he even care?_

"C'mon, Granger, don't be like this."

She stopped at the empty sidewalk, her puffs of air floating in front of her much like the exhaust of the pipes the cars were giving off; passing her by. She pulled the hood of her robe up, ignoring the rodent behind her, and went left towards what appeared to be an abandoned clothing shop. She would take the phone booth next to it, enter the numbers into the keypad, scan her i.d. and she would be back into the warm building of the Ministry. She would go straight to Carmichael's office, give him the information, to Harry's, and to her office to focus on that proposal and forget about the confrontation with an old enemy.

"Granger," he called after her. "It's the holiday season, what happened to good will towards men and all of that rubbish?"

"Harry gave that back to us," she snapped.

"Granger! Really now, don't be difficult. We haven't seen each other in three years."

"Go away, Malfoy, or I swear I will hex you!"

"In front of a load of Muggles? It's a good thing you're a lawyer!"

"I'll give you to the count of three, you bouncing blond ferret!"

He laughed.

"Three!"

"You haven't changed a bit."

"Two!"

"Feisty as ever."

"One!"

"Show me what you got, little lioness."

Hermione had gone to spin, but she didn't make it that far, her foot finding a piece of ice. Her heart jumped in her throat a second as she slipped, and fell. Halfway down was she grabbed by Malfoy, her arms bruising in his grip as he struggled to hold her up.

The puff of her breaths came quickly, and joined with hers was his. He was bent over her shoulder as she leaned against him, feeling him lifting her upright. It was a gradual process, moving out of the danger of the sleet.

"Easy there."

She slowed, feeling the spinning. His touch was too hot, it was burning her. "Please, let me go, Malfoy."

He did as she requested, stepping back. However, she noticed that his empty hands were out, as if ready to catch her again. She didn't know whether to be offended or thankful, and instead she settled with confused. It wasn't a joke, that she knew for sure, so what was it? Why was he being annoyingly kind (for the most part)?

She fixed her twisted robe, blushing furiously at her feet. "Thank you."

"Granger -"

"I have to go."

"Granger -"

"I said thank you, Malfoy, now please, I have to be at my office. It was nice seeing you." _Nice_?

"Granger," he muttered as she walked quickly and carefully.

A day like any other, except that she ran into a kind, yet vexing, Malfoy

***

It was a day that Hermione would consider a good one. She approved the proposal, scanned the others, won a case that evening... And when she had gone home she found Harry at her fireplace, a little blue bundle in his arms.

"Ginny suggested that we need to take you up on your offer. Do you mind?"  
She smiled thinking of the ways that Ginny "suggested" that. Harry had to have given in early, the sleep deprivation too much for him. She was glad, he needed rest, they all did.

"I'd love to." Diligently she took little James from his arms, holding him close to her chest. "Precious as always."

"Is there anything you need?"

"I didn't throw out his things, Harry, I still have the cob and his milk is in the fridge. He'll be fine, I'll call if we need anything."

He hesitated.

"Do you not trust me?"

"You know I trust you, Hermione, but... He's finally stopped crying an hour ago, maybe he needs -"

"His parents to have some shut eye. _Really_, Harry, this is ridiculous. Go home! You live five houses down from here!" It went without saying that four houses down from her was Ron.

At the end of the war it was hard for them to be separated, the danger too great and recent to feel completely safe. For the first few weeks they stayed at Harry's their wands at their sides. Harry still slept with his...

Harry nodded, not taking his sights off of his son, as though every second was precious gold not to be spent. "I'll see you in the morning." He ducked under the mantle of holly and candles and into the fireplace, vanishing in a light of flames.

James' brown eyes were closed, his small lips parted, sleeping soundly. It was quiet and Hermione relished it, not trusting that he wouldn't wake and start screaming again. The sound reverberated off of the walls. It was a legitimate fear that Harry or Ginny would hear.

Off of the lounge was an archway to the hallway, where there was a reasonable sized bathroom and her room. It was painted in calming colors of blue and silver swirls. Dean and Luna helped her paint it when she moved in, and above her large bed was leafy greens said to help with the nightmares of the war. She was certain however that it was not the plant that got rid of her nightmares, but time itself.

At the end of her large bed was the apple cob, and she set the baby very gently in it. She covered him with the cotton blue blanket, set his stuffed lion close by, kissing her fingers pressing them to his forehead. "Goodnight, James. Sweet dreams." She closed the door behind her.

Through all of that, she forgot about Malfoy. That was, until she was reclining on her couch, her legs on the light coffee table, and there was a short but distinctive knock at her door. Her heart skipped a beat, and she paused for a few seconds listening for any peep from her room, but James did not wake, and she breathed again, moving to her feet.

She glimpsed out of her flowered curtain, but she saw no one out on the porch nor on the frosted yard. She reached behind her, clasping her vine wand as she opened the door. She looked down and saw a book lying on a thin beige cloth, protecting it from the cold and damp concrete. It was not any book either, it being the exact one that Malfoy had taken from her.

Stepping out she frantically looked to both sides of the road, but it was empty, the lined houses with their modest lights leaving much to the shadows. If he was there, she didn't see him.

It could have been a trick, but Malfoy and his family... They weren't the same. In the end, they chose their family over their wrongful duty. That did not mean that they were nice people, but it meant that it was unlikely that her old school-mate would play such an awful trick, and for what? Because she was a mudblood? He would have done it long ago, not then, when the battles had been fought, and everyone moved on as best as they could.

She picked up the cloth and book, and brought it inside. She tossed the gray material onto the coffee table and returned to her couch, the book in her lap. She lovingly caressed it, as she did with every book before she opened it.

When she did, a neat cursive in ink caught her attention. On the inside of the hard cover was her surname, and a short message.

_Granger,_

_ Here is your book. All I ask in return is that you give me one Christmas day. I'll prove it to you, I have changed._

_Your Slytherin Enemy, Malfoy_

Hermione narrowed her eyes at it. If she was confused before, it was nothing in comparison to how she was feeling then. Why Christmas? Why Malfoy? Why her?

There was a second knock at the door causing her to jump in surprise, the book falling to the floor. She laid it on the table, and stood, once more looking cautiously out the window, but this time she saw him, standing there with his hands in his cloak.

As she opened the door she leaned against it. She was too tired for the games; it was too close to Christmas to be playing cat and mouse with an old bullying classmate, but that thought nearly melted into the ice he was standing in when she saw the hopeful look in his features, as though he expected her not to answer.

"What do you say, Granger? Spend Christmas with me?"

She kept her face smooth, clear of the lies that could be shown. If she had learned anything from Ginny it was to lie. Sort of... "The gesture is nice if not odd, but I have a family to spend it with."

"You're lying to me," he assessed instantly. "Your parents are going to Rome. The Weasley's are going to visit one of their many sons in Egypt, and Potter with them. You're all alone for the holidays."

"Who told you that?"

"I have my sources inside of the Ministry. You two don't check your surroundings when you talk, do you?"

"Mind your own business, Malfoy," she snapped. "It was a choice to stay here." Indeed it was.

Everyone of the Weasley's and Harry asked her time and time again if she wanted to go with them, but she politely declined. She wasn't bitter about her parents choice of activities for the holidays, that was fine by her, as much as she loved them, she had always been independent. The Weasley's, well, they were family, of course, but spending the holiday where there was no snow was not appealing to her.

Neville and Luna had likewise offered for her to be with them, but her mind was made up. She would spend Christmas alone.

Malfoy tilted to the side looking over her shoulder at the seven foot tree, decorated in red berries, blue and silver ornaments, blue lights circling its body, and a twinkling glass star at the top. There were a few neatly wrapped presents underneath saved for when her family returned. Greenery hung over the archway to the kitchen, red and green colors scattered over side tables, blue lights wrapped in sparkly, clear fabric.

She tilted as well, blocking his view.

He heaved a sigh. "I'm alone too."

Hermione pressed her lips together, her cheeks coloring. She had forgotten that Malfoy had no family. His parents, his aunt, his friends, they all had died in the war. He was more alone than she was. All he wanted was company, and if she was to be honest with herself, she wanted it too. He was being nice and so she wondered, what harm could it cause?

"I'm not a Death Eater anymore, Granger. I know that I was a terror, I know that I did despicable things. I had no spine. I'm sorry. Forgive me. It's Christmas, and we're both alone. We don't have to be. We can have our second chance."

She bit her lip, a last second of indecisiveness, then a howling wail pierced her. She hurriedly went to her bedroom, leaving Malfoy on the doorstep grimacing at the sudden noise.

James' mouth was opened wide, his small face red, screaming at the top of his lungs.

She scooped him up, coddling him against her chest, bouncing on her heels. "Shhh," she soothed, "shhh."

Malfoy came in then, his blond brow raised. "You have a kid," he stated.

She shook her head, and bent to kiss the top of the baby's head. "He's Harry's."

"Oh." There was a tone of relief.

"I'm taking care of him for the night." When did she start spilling information to him?

"Oh."

Glimpsing a last time at him, she yielded. "Okay, Malfoy. Christmas Day. You can see yourself out."

He nodded, a light smile. There was something in his eyes, as he gave a final glance to them, but she couldn't decipher the meaning, her head was reeling. The day, which should have been like any other, turned into the most susceptible of surprises.

In that odd day, she had agreed to spend Christmas with Draco Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve Hermione woke sleepily to the unusual quiet. Though she didn't have to listen for the incisive shrill, she did listen for any signs that it would begin again.

She achieved a total of five minutes of sleep in the night of screams. Her eyes itched and burned, her head was fuzzy, and she was grouchy. She pushed her blankets off and stood, the cold of the floor shocking her to her toes up to her limbs. She rubbed her chilled and bumpy arms peering into the cob, and instantly, her bad mood evaporated.

James was kicking in his blue sleeper, sucking his thumb eagerly with a little smile. He appeared to have improved since last night, giggling as she picked him up still tightly swathed in his blue blanket.

"Morning, little James."

He cooed in response, a bubble popping out of the corner of his mouth.

She giggled and returned him to the cob, hurriedly dressing. Her bedside clock told her that she had only a few minutes until Harry would arrive for him, and she couldn't waste anymore time.

It made her a tad sad, that she would have to hand James over. It would've been nice, to have a child around for Christmas, but she knew better than to go there in her mind. She wasn't ready for children, she lived for her work. For the world that Voldemort nearly destroyed she had to do fix. For James and everyone.

Once she was straightening and pulling down her maroon sweater she heard the quick - but muffled - sound of the fireplace.

"Daddy's here," she told him in a slightly raised voice, less dignified than her usual that was meant for babies and puppies.

She brought him to the lounge where Harry stood against the dull gray brick. He looked more well rested than she had seen him since James was born, although his hair was as unruly as always, that was simply Harry. His hair had never once laid flat on top of his head.

"I think it's over," she told him regarding the colic, leaning close to hand his son to him.

Harry's green eyes were bright as he looked down at his bundle. "Thank you so much, Hermione, I really owe you."

"I'm happy to do it."

"If he still had it this morn, Ginny and I were going to stay behind with him. Feel a bit bad to travel him to Egypt, but Molly's insisting that it'd be good for the baby. Frankly, I reckon she wants to spoil him personally." He paused, "are you sure you don't want to come?"

"I want to enjoy a white Christmas, but thank you."

"I listened to the forecast a bit ago, they said that there wouldn't be any."

She smile sadly. "Miracles."

"I thought you were too logical for miracles?"

"I suppose it's the child in me."

"You were a child?"

She lightly swatted his arm. "Stop it, you know very well that I was."

He sighed, and turned to the hearth. "Have a good Christmas, Hermione."

"You too, Harry. Say hello to them for me."

"Okay."

The fire - that matched perfectly with his eyes erupted over him, sending him back to his home where they would spend the holiday as a family. A father, a mother, and a son.

Hermione was alone. Alone on Christmas eve... And it wasn't even snowing...

The shops would be closed, and so, there was nowhere to go. She grabbed the book from where it was left on the table and pulled the red knitted blanket off of the back of the couch wrapping it over her shoulders, curling herself into a ball. She opened the first page, avoiding Malfoy's small message.

As she lost herself into the worlds of snowflakes, snowmen, happy and merry people, carols, and traditions, she fell asleep, her head on her arm. The book dangled form her fingers as she dozed into memories long forgotten.

_ In her Sixth Year as a school Prefect, Hermione patrolled the corridors of the castle. For the most part, it was a boring process. On her first night she was shocked to find fellow classmates jammed into shadow crevices and behind huge twelve foot statues snogging. She vowed that she would not look any of them in the eye again._

_ By her third night it became routine. By her sixth it was tedious. Did any of them have anything better to do? They all had finals at the end of the year and every moment of studying counted! She never comprehended how anyone could risk allowing their grades to fall._

_ She was not to be taken wrong, she felt that she was doing good, that she had a purpose. More than twice she had found lost and teary eyed students trying to find their dormitories. When pointed in the right direction they would rush off, and she did not have the heart to deduct points from them._

_ It was nearing the end of the year, the weather warm again, but the nights continued to be breezily cold. She wore her heaviest cloak and her gloves, her breath rising and fading in front of her._

_ Thankfully, she was in her last corridor. Imaginings of a warm fire, her warm bed, and the soft blankets played temptingly in her head. It was wrong, but she considered not even opening the doors along the way, but that inane and ridiculous idea was swept away at the sight of a long lanky figure ahead of her._

_ She approached softly, heel to toe, making very little noise. It was no question as to who it was, for the moonlight casting through the window he was gazing out of lit him in its mysterious glow, his hair whiter than normal._

_ "Malfoy," she whispered, feeling a reason that was beyond her to continue her consistency of tranquility. "It's late, aren't you done with your Prefect duties?"_

_ He didn't move from his spot and she pondered if she'd been heard. A minute passed, however, and she was sure that he hadn't._

_ Then he spoke. "It's a full moon tonight."_

_ She drew up beside him. His face was serious, his eyes lighter than their steely gray, becoming a shimmery silver. In fact, he looked to be much older than his sixteen years, as though the last months in school had taken such a toll on him it aged him in fifty years. There were dark lines under his eyes, creases of permanent frowns._

_ Hermione turned to the moon, her hand finding her wand in her pocket. Just in case. She _was_ alone with Malfoy, there was no telling what he would do to her if he could get away with it, and they were very much alone._

_ "It is," she agreed, glimpsing at the moon and its dark spots, the luminescence circling it. The stars were specks beside it, tiny lanterns in the velvet sky._

_ "When I was a boy, I wished to hold it in my hand, put it in my pocket and keep it. I could hold a whole other world and it was a place I could escape to if I wanted."_

_ Hermione swallowed, her hand clutching her wand, awaiting the duel that Malfoy would begin for he was being far too nice. She would settle for his harsh prejudice words, because his behavior was confusing her. Why was he on her level, and why was he telling her a story from his childhood?_

_ "Malfoy, are you ill?"_

_ "No, my mudblood, I'm telling you my wishes because you won't tell anyone else. If you did, who would believe you?"_

_ His mudblood? "You're not making any sense. Let me take you to Madam Promfrey."_

_ Though she didn't move to touch him, he stepped out of her reach. "No. I'm fine. Go to bed, Granger, it's late." He spun, his cloak swirling around his slender figure, strolling out of her sights._

_ She was stunned, and she looked up to the moon, their single witness to the spectacular and oddly peaceful confrontation. If she had known that Malfoy wouldn't try to hurt her, she would have told him, she wished the same when she was younger._

_ She wished she told him and wished that he'd be safe... The Malfoy that she had been lucky enough to see, even if for the only and last night._

Her forearm was red with the heat of her cheek. She rubbed her tired eyes, and peered at her wristwatch, the numbers blurring.

It was two in the afternoon. She had nearly wasted the day away! She hopped up, the book falling to the floor. From the back, the corner of a slip of parchment showed. It was folded in half, and she opened it to find the same handwriting that was on the inside of the cover.

_ Go to Cloaks Deluxe._

Flipping the parchment over she searched for another message, but there was none. It was blank.

Obviously it was meant for her to see yesterday, and she almost crumpled it, but stopped. She had nothing else to do, it wouldn't hurt to see, maybe there was something else there. If Malfoy could be that nice, then anything was possible.

There was nothing else to do but to follow the directions though she severely doubted that the store would be open. It was Christmas eve...

Adorning her forest green cloak, she left out into the frostbitten air.

***

Hermione knew just where the shop was. It was not Madame Malkins but it was one of the best. It was small as the bookshop she incidentally ran into Malfoy at, but it was stocked full, every wall covered in fabrics of bright, dark, ornate, and plain. Cloaks were not the only clothing apparel that they sold, but dresses too. She wondered if Malfoy was poking fun at her choice of clothes, but that didn't fit the new personalty that he was sporting.

Without expectation that it would swing open, the door did, a small chime ringing above her. She looked dumbstruck as the stout and elderly saleslady bumbled up to her, shaking her hand eagerly. It was like she was a celebrity. Yes, very well known, but she was not one of the Celestine Sisters, a popular Wizarding band.

"Ms. Granger, it's a pleasure to meet you. Now, you are in need of a dress." She placed her finger at her bottom lip, cocking her head and appraising her thoughtfully.

"Excuse me," Hermione blushed, "I was sent here by a Mr. Malfoy."

"I know, ma'am. He told me to dress you in the best and most beautiful gown that we have."

Hermione went from dumbstruck to dumbfounded, her mouth parted in shock. "Why?"

"I've been sworn to secrecy."

"I'm sorry, but I didn't bring any money..."

She waved her hand as if that was not a concern at all. "He says he will pay full price plus some! If you see anything else that you'd like he says he'll pay that too. Don't worry about anything, miss! You are well taken care of here."

Hermione could hardly believe her ears. Malfoy paying for her clothes? She shouldn't be so shocked anymore, because obviously it was not a trap. Malfoy had changed, and she guessed that it had to do with his family. Without them, he was sad - of course - but he was free to be who he was, and she knew that he was good. She had seen it once, though the memory was far away, it was clear and she held it close.

"You are a gorgeous young lady. Mr. Malfoy is lucky."

She was going to correct her, tell her that her and Malfoy were far from being friends much less a couple but she didn't. There'd be no decent explanation for it anyhow.

Gowns then came flying from the walls like over-sized birds, and they were hung in front of her in mid-air.

"Whatever you like, Ms. Granger."

She paced herself towards them, roving over the ash gray, the yellow, and the black. Her eye caught the last one, an eye-catching emerald with gold trimming. The sleeves flared out, the scoop neckline decorated in small specks that glittered in the light. It was perfect.

"That one, please."

"You have a talent, ma'am. That is our best one."

Hermione regarded those two statements with a grain of salt. Without asking the price, she tried it on, it fitting perfectly, forming to her curves. She didn't need to look in the mirror for she could only think of the horror of her bushy hair with such a lovely gown. She agreed to take it, not too pleased to be taking advantage of Malfoy's kindness, but she would be certain to repay him. It was Christmas for him too... She would figure something out.

"I'm surprised you are working on Christmas eve," she said, making conversation as the lady tied a silk bow onto the box sliding it over the counter to her.

She laughed, eying her left hand. "Your boyfriend paid me extra to keep the shop opened for you."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"Oh yes, he was quite insistent. I don't make that much money in a year! Don't let him go, miss, you have someone that must love you." She paused, inspecting her face. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

She nodded, but the fury swallowed her whole. She was _not_ okay. "Thank you for your time and assistance..."

"Ma'am?"

_Sorry, I have to go kill a ferret._ She stormed out of the shop, not pulling up her hood. She stormed her way to her home, where she would attempt to cool off in a hot tub instead of the chilling wind she was barreling through.

***

The hot bath did not work. She found herself going over what the saleslady told her and dressing back into her clothes and apparating at the Malfoy Manor. In her anger, Hermione stumbled slightly, landing on the steps in front of the door.

She had never liked apparating much, it dizzied her, stirring the contents of her stomach (which in that case it was nothing). Going over her day in her mind she realized that she hadn't eaten. She promised her growling belly that she would cook something up. Right after she dealt with the Slytherin King of Ferrets.

The Malfoy Manor was huge, a total of five stories tall, its own turret in the back. There were dead plants, the original caretakers having been freed by her in a case two years prior. Behind her there was a long pebbled aisle lined with the skeletons of shrubs.

The door in front of her towered over her. She took the snakes tail, pounding the knocker. It was childish of her, but she kept banging it, not to be deterred or rejected. In fact, she fantasized that it was Malfoy's sneering face she was hitting.

Suddenly it opened, and her hand flew back. Malfoy stood there in the first sign of fury she hadn't seen since before their reunion, his eyes flaring.

"What do you think you're doing, Granger?!"

"You had a woman go to work on Christmas eve!"

He smiled, and she nearly slapped him, her hands balling at her sides. She did not see what was so funny, it was a horrible thing he had done. How heartless could he be?

"I was paying her," he poorly explained.

"That is not the point! She could've been spending it with her family! Money is not the most important thing!"

"I agree, but she was poor and wanted the new Nimbus for her son. I overheard her once while I was browsing for a new cloak. I asked her to take the money, but she refused, so I hired her. It was the only day she was free, Granger!"

"Oh." It was all she could say. She felt foolish. Horrid. Malfoy was only being nice. He was being kind to a saleslady, to her, and she was ruining it for him. Ruining his Christmas.

"That's right," he said coldly, but his eyes softened once more.

"I'm sorry... I thought..."

"I'm not perfect, Granger, but I'm not that cruel bloke I was either. Experiences do change people."

"I guess I do think of you that way... Look, I'll give you back the gown, you shouldn't have gone to the trouble -"

"It's your Christmas gift."

"Then what shall I get you?"

"Your presence."

She filled with tears. "Forgive me?"

"That's a step," he said, surprised.

"Forgiveness always is."

"No, not forgiveness. You didn't flinch when you asked." There was a dawning about him, as if he was as struck as she was.

She grinned. "Christmas day?"

"Christmas day at eight."

Hermione stuffed her hands in her pockets and walked back down the path heading to the town. She wanted to get him something to open on Christmas, and despite that every store was closed, she would find something for him.


	3. Chapter 3 Part One

Chapter Three

Christmas Day

Part One

She couldn't help herself, Hermione twirled in the dress, it flying out around her, her hair in her face (sleek from a self-made spell). Like a child, she giggled, a bit dizzy from the motion.

It was silly, how she was acting, as though she were a school-girl! Those days had long past her, and even then she had been quite mature. At the very least, she could say that she owed herself a few private moments to capture the girl that remained in her heart.

Haltering she stumbled, falling backwards on her bed, bouncing from the springs. Her hands roamed appreciatively over the softest material she ever grazed.

Hermione had never been poor, she grew up very well off, but she was not like Malfoy. The finest things were out of her reach, and she never cared. She thrived on knowledge and helping rather than money. Even still, it was nice, to have a such a fine thing.

She laced her neck with a matching green necklace of sparkling leaves. Looking herself over in her full length mirror behind her door, inspecting the light makeup one last time, she approved herself. There was not much else to be done.

It was nearing eight o'clock too, and it was far time that she announced herself at his house. Gentle wings of butterflies flapped in her stomach. It was the kind of nervous that she loved. She didn't date often, but when she did, she loved to feel those butterflies. Although she never expected in her wildest dreams that she would ever get them for Malfoy.

Her reflection shook her head. _Of all people, I had to choose Draco Malfoy._ That wasn't right, in fact, if she wanted to be defensive (and correct) it was Malfoy that chose her. All she wanted was that bloody book!

Hermione took a final survey of herself in the mirror. Satisfied, she quickly made her way to the fireplace. Before she entered she shook her hands at her sides and inhaled deeply, ridding of her jitters. It felt like Neville's forever-living toad was taking refuge in her stomach.

It was ironic, considering her and Malfoy's history she should have been more nervous due to the chance that he would harm her, if anything other than being a dirty mudblood, in retaliation of the death of his parents years previously. She didn't kill them, but she was fighting on the side that had.

Despite that, she was nervous simply to spend such an important holiday with him. They weren't even friends. Or where the now? Because of proxy? Did Christmas make them friends? Did she want that?

Yes. She did.

Into the smearing embers, a handful of ashes in her hold, she called out the address to the Malfoy Manor. In a green flash and sickening spin, she was on her way.

***

The first thing that Hermione saw was a pallid hand. She accepted it, and with her free hand she tried to shake the ashes from her hair and shoulders, stepping out into a soft red and green glow.

In the light Malfoy looked a tad scary in his black slacks and snow-white button top, a demon with angel eyes as he devoured her. He raked those eyes over her, not in the wolf-whistling manner that many men did, but in an appreciative way a dehydrated man would accept a glass of water. As if he would never drink again...

"Thank you for your invite, Malfoy."

"It's my pleasure, Granger," he exhaled.

Shyly she looked over the lounge. It was large enough to hold her whole house! She wondered, what could he have possibly done with it all, but if she thought harder she could recall a conversation months past. Someone was discussing the use of the Manor for charity events, and she smiled, glad to know that good was coming out of such a horrid place.

Bringing herself back she found the culprit to the lovely hues in the lights strung everywhere. The nine-foot-tall tree completed with shining glass balls and small glittering fairies, the mantle, the framed scenic photographs, and outlining the floor to ceiling windows... They were wrapped everywhere. It was every other bulb of green and red, and she looked up to spot the chandelier (the very one that fell on top of her years ago) to find wooden beams arched above her, and those had lights as well, garland twisting around them like an evergreen snake.

"This is... Beautiful. But where is the chandelier?"

His face became a stone of graveness. "I don't want to talk about that day."

She met his eyes, though it was hard because she remembered those eyes. She connected with them while his aunt tortured her. She had focused on the storm inside of him whilst she listened to the rage in the cellar. It tore her heart out that day, to think that she was to die and leave all of them. To leave Malfoy unprotected in the hands of people that in the end would kill him. It didn't matter of their allegiances. He was her age, he was just a boy, and he was scared.

"Draco," she spoke his name for the first time, and there was a spark of something in him that showed. "I don't blame you for that night."

He turned from her, to the window, where outside full clouds gathered in the sky. He looked up, just as he had that night. Except there was a difference, and that was in his features where it showed his health, the brightness of him that lit brighter than the thousands of lights he used.

"I blame myself. Hermione," he said her name in relent, but not in the way she said his. It was as though he said hers a million times before. "I don't want to say I know what it was like for you, but it was killing me. Watching you like that. Bloody hell, it was one of the worst days of my life. There was so much blood. I've seen it loads of times, but it was yours. It was the same blood I made fun of, that I loathed, and there it was, on my floor, glass surrounding you - on you."

He fists tightened. "I realized then, you know. How little it mattered. It was the same as mine. If I was bleeding to death with you, if it was my blood there, no one would tell the difference. At first I was sad by that, then sickened, then... Relieved. I wished to be like you, to have someone pull me out of that wreckage. For a split second, I wanted to go with you and your friends. I hoped that they would offer, that someone would save me. But no one did, and it was too late when I considered Dumbledore's pledge to keep me and my family safe. I thought I had no choice. I did. I'm sorry. I can't change my past and I'm trying for my future - to make up for it."

A warm trickle of a tear leaked out of the crinkle of Hermione's eye, sliding down her cheek. She stood behind Malfoy - Draco... She stood behind Draco, and placed her hand on his shoulder. It tensed and then relaxed.

"I forgive you. Forgive yourself. You were just a boy."

"I was a man. I had responsibilities."

"Please."

He looked over and down at her, and astonishingly pressed his lips to the part in her hair. She didn't know how long they stayed that way, but she wished to never move. It felt... Complete. It was odd, she never knew there was a piece missing.

He moved from her to the coat rack by the door. He got his cloak and swung it around her, clasping the gold buckle below her neck, and lifted her hood. "Lets try not to catch a cold, eh?"

"What are you doing?"

"You thought this was it? No. I want you to come outside, I have a present for you."

"The gown was gift."

"I'm a liar."

She sighed exasperatedly. "What is it?"

"Take my hand." He held it out, and again, she accepted.

***

Solid ground was below her, cold wind on her face. She squeezed, not letting go of Draco's hand as she opened her eyes.

In front of her was beauty. A frozen pond, cast blue in the low light of the gray sky, dying sprouts of grass, and surrounding trees sparkling with ice. She was rendered speechless by it all.

"We're a couple of miles from the house, behind the cluster of trees. The property extends for another three miles ahead."

Her head reeled. "It's gorgeous..."

"Have you ever skated?"

"In France."

He shot a shocked expression down at her. "France?"

"My parents travel a lot. Every Christmas we'd go there, and my mum would shop, my dad would take extended naps, and I'd sit on the balcony of our hotel and read. But it was skating that we did as a family. There was this huge rank, and with my mum at one side and my dad on the other, we'd skate as a family. Once, my dad rented out the whole rink for just the three of us. It was the most perfect Christmas..."

"I know."

Suspicious she slid her hand out of his. "How do you know?"

He set his jaw, staring forward. "I'm not proud of it."

"How do you know," she reiterated.

He rounded on her. "Know this, I had my sights set on you from the beginning, since you were on the train looking for that ruddy toad. My father told me all of my life that I can spot a mudblood and you proved me wrong. I thought you were pure, and when you put on that hat, when you got placed in Gryffindor, when Nott told me what you were... I _hated _you. I wanted to make you miserable because I couldn't have you. You and your bloody friends. I hated you so much I loved you. And when mother and father died..." His eyes glistened. "It took more effort than I ever thought possible to stop hating you and to love you with the purity I thought myself to be. My father's last words were sorry. _Sorry, _Granger. He was _wrong._ We all were."

Her fingers twitched, wanting to wipe the tear that escaped him. It was unnerving, to see him cry, but at the same time, it was comforting. It showed him to be true to what he said. Not that she had any reason to doubt him anymore.

"I'm not happy about what I did," he continued, "I screwed up my whole life. I didn't want to waste the rest of it. Nott works in Magical Corrections, and... He owed me a couple of favors."

Her stomach plummeted. "Are you saying you had him spy on me?"

"The last condemnable act I will do. I had to do this. It was my last chance."

She pieced it together in her head. "This... Me... You're correcting everything through me."

"Damn it, you're not getting it!" He stepped closer to her and she stepped back.

The swirling and sinking feeling of being tricked and degraded settled over her. "You want me to redeem your name."

"You're putting words into my mouth, Granger!"

"Is it true?"

The silence that ensued spoke volumes. He was debating whether or not to tell the truth. "...Partly."

She held out her hand. "Take me home."

"Listen -"

"Take me home, _now_, Malfoy." Her eyes stung terribly refusing to blink knowing that if they did, the tears would fall over, but she did, and they did. And she was crying, her chest splitting open.

Instead of taking her hand he took her shoulders, clutching them so she couldn't move. "Listen to me! This isn't all about redeeming my name."

"It isn't about your heart!"

"That's all it is!"

"You're contradicting, Malfoy!" She shoved him, but he brought her to him, and she stepped on his foot.

He yelped, letting her go and holding his wet boot. "What in the bloody hell is the matter with you?!"

With gusto she raised her chin and spun, sauntering to the trees painted red in her anger. She would walk the three miles until she was off of his property and then she would disapparate home. Never would she go back. She would pretend that Malfoy hadn't come into her life at all.

"Granger!"

She ignored him.

"Granger!"

At the edge of the pond was a pair of crisp white skates. She bit her quivering lip.

"Granger," he huffed behind her, wrenching her arm to face him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Let me go."

"Please?"

His pleading struck a cord. She never knew the Malfoy in front of her, but it was too late. He made a fool out of her, he ruined what was supposed to be a quiet Christmas. Hermione twisted out of his grip, obtaining her distance as he pursued her, and then there was a crack under her heel.

She didn't move fast enough, taking half a step to the grass, but the ice gave out from under her weight, and sucking in a breath she fell into the depths of the frigid water. A hand scratched her arm, her hand, slipping, and she heard a muffled yell above her, the water and fear clogging her ears.

Tucked inside of her shirt was the moon pendant. The one she was going to give Malfoy. It pressed against her, and she wondered, when he pulled her body out of the water and found it, if he'd know it was meant for him.


	4. Chapter 3 Part Two

Chapter Three

Christmas Day

Part Two

"For gods sakes breathe!"

Dizzy... Cold... So cold... Sick... Blue... Wet... Freezing... Pain on her chest... Pushing air into her lungs... Bruising her ribs... She wished for it all to stop...

"Not you... Not now. Damn it!"

Hermione tried to focus, but the blackness held the promise of painless serenity. It tempted her, and she wanted to go, but no, she couldn't. Without a reason why, she knew she had to stay.

_Focus, Hermione. _What happened? Oh, she fell through the ice. Malfoy tried to save her, proof in the barely felt the sting in her arm where his nails scraped. He tried to save her... But why? Why did she fall?

"Please! Don't be impossible _now!_"

He wanted her to redeem his name. She was used. Malfoy _used_ her. He was trying to save her only because he would be blamed for her death. Harry would convict him for it all, but that brought no comfort, because she knew better.

After all that he'd been through, the death of his parents, the things he'd seen in the war, the things he'd done, she was convinced that he was changed, even if in the smallest amount. He grew a backbone, doing what he wanted to do. He was no longer that scared boy staring up at the moon wishing more than anything that he was on it. No, he was the man, who confessed his wrong-doings, who apologized, and blamed himself. He was the man that was bent upon winning her over.

Hermione never needed to be persuaded of his change. She saw it years ago, and she was seeing again. It took a fool not to see it.

"Hermione," he cried. "Come back."

The water pushed up and flooded out of her mouth, washing over her pale cheeks. She felt burning hot hands roll her to her side as she emptied it all. It was like fire, her lungs heaving with excess effort, her nose passage raw. The dress was glued to every small curve she had and although that fact remained in the back of her mind along with the worry of what he was seeing, it was far from her more realistic worries. Like nearly dying.

"That's it," Malfoy sighed, "good. Thank God."

"Do you even believe in God, Malfoy," she asked irritably, her throat cracking and she grimaced.

"For once, Granger, shut up," he spat, removing his jacket and wrapping her in it, the warmth slowly thawing her. His arms slid beneath her legs and back and he lifted her.

She closed her eyes before he disapparated them, and the sudden heat that caressed her skin told her that they were inside of the mansion. She wanted to go home, to her bed, to heal herself without help. However, that was not going to happen, and she didn't have the energy to argue with him about it.

There was little bounce in his step, and the swimming of everything made it hard to concentrate but she knew that she was being moved for she was descended onto the couch. She was soaked and had to be soaking it as well.

"I'm wet," she informed him, assuming that the damage to his couch would anger him later.

"Gee, Granger, I would've never guessed when you fell into the pond that you'd come out wet. I don't remember you being this incorrigible." His voice flitted in and out, as if he was moving.

"Ferret," she wheezed the epitaph.

"I told you to shut it. I'm going to get you to St. Mungos."

"No, please." She opened her eyes and saw him pointing his wand at her, and the next instant her dress and bushy hair was dry. She no longer felt exposed, but she continued to feel like a downright mess. It was one thing to not pretty herself up every day like most women did, it was another to feel horrid. Akin to one having the flu.

Beside the couch he bent to a pile of blankets in a basket and began laying them over her. They were all matching of thick indigo wool, the heat suddenly coming back to her and she noted that there was a new fire roaring in the hearth.

"That's another step," he muttered out of the blue.

"What are you going on about?"

"You didn't flinch when I pointed my wand at you. Admit it, you trust me."

Talking was like nails in her throat, but she did anyway, not able to not retort. "It's logic, you would've hurt me already if that was your intention."

"Then what's the matter with you?"

"Wasn't I supposed to shut it?"

He narrowed his eyes and stood, banging through the swinging door. He came back minutes later with a steaming mug. He pushed it into her hands ruthlessly and demanded, "speak."

Hermione sat herself up taking a hesitant sip. The hot chocolate coated her throat, warming her from the inside out. "I'm not a dog," she reminded him.

"Right, dogs obey."

She glared at him, but decided to let it pass in payment of him saving her life. "Thank you."

"You'd think I'd let you die?"

"It's not like you haven't given it a go before." She thought of the Room of Requirement where curses were being shot off. The night that Crabbe died. "Sorry," she apologized under her breath.

He shook his head. "I'm the one that's sorry. Crabbe wouldn't have died if it wasn't for me. I used him and Goyle, their stupidity. Dumbledore wouldn't have died and your friend's brother wouldn't be scarred. I could've had a real chance."

Another sip, another rush of warmth. "What made you think you had a chance at all?"

"C'mon, you know I'm right. We'd be great together."

"I'm sorry too."

He bowed his head sadly, and her heart went out to him. For his misunderstanding.

"No, Malfoy – Draco." At his name he gazed up through his transparent lashes. "I'm sorry that I didn't do anything to help you. If I knew -"

"I wanted you?"

"If you didn't want the life that your parents gave you... And if you wanted me," she added. It didn't show – or maybe it did – but she tried to hide how badly she was trembling inside.

"Want you," he corrected, something that startled her, not because she was not used to being corrected (she wasn't), but because he still did want her. Wanting her in the first place was a shock, wanting her then, after their shaky Christmas, was almost insane.

Insane or not, she reached into the bosom of her dress and pulled out the chain that hung a silver crescent, the black etchings in Celtic design. "This is your present. Merry Christmas, Draco." She slipped it over his head, tracing the link to the crescent. "Your own moon."

Draco swallowed thickly, his adams apple bobbing. "You remembered that?"

"It was the only time you were nice to me..."

"Thought your memory was better than that. Remember at the Qudditch match, I told you to keep your bushy head down?"

"A warning."

"It was shameful then, how relieved I was to see you on the train."

"It's the past."

"So no more," he ordered, a spark emitting from him. "We're not going to feel bad about the past anymore. Are we agreed?"

"We're in agreement."

He took the mug from her placing it on the table. With his wand in hand he hung it over them, and out of the tip grew a mistletoe. "Make it official?"

She giggled. "Really?" She became serious as he hadn't moved it away. "Are you sure about this? Don't let it be the holiday season -"

"It's not the season, Hermione, will you stop agonizing over every little thing and give yourself over to _someone -"_

She kissed him in interruption, pressing her lips hard against his. It wasn't expected, the shock that it gave her. What the blankets, fire, and hot chocolate couldn't do, the kiss did, and suddenly, she was in flames, the clatter of the wand falling to the floor disregarded.

He twined their fingers bringing her arms around his neck, pushing her into the couch. Soft lips brushed hers, the scent of musk surrounding her, tasting mint inside of her. She couldn't get enough of it. It was too good and she couldn't believe it was coming from Draco.

When it became absolutely necessary to take a breath, the first thing that he pronounced was a promise, "I'll be good to you, I swear. You'll never want. You'll never spend another Christmas alone – even if it's what you want." He wiped her hair from her face and kissed both of her lids.

It would have been the perfect end to a semi-perfect day, but over his shoulder she saw out the window, the lightly falling snow. Her heart leapt in joy.

"Draco! It's snowing!"

He looked out the window too, and grinned. "It is." He helped her off the couch, his arm looped around her waist, partly to help her, partly in final claim. There was a pride about him, showing his congenital swagger. Yet it was genuine happiness.

Hermione peered up at the leaden sky, a precise match to his eyes. She watched him, the flakes clinging to his hair. There was a slight smirk, lost in his train of thought.

She was lost in her own pondering of the kiss, the snow, the real magic that was the holiday. It was unnatural, that an old enemy would give her everything that she had been wanting and more. In the same sense, it wasn't all that unnatural, because rather they clued each other in or not, they both were aware of who the other was.

With no more consideration of how they came to be she gently she pulled him down by the collar of his dress shirt, meeting their lips again, for what would be once out of a million times.

Miracles did happen, and as any logical person would have reasoned, she had proof. He was her miracle.

* * *

A/N: Merry Christmas and happy holidays to everyone! I hope this short and simple Christmas story is satisfactory.


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